


Sweet December

by WhosInTheAttic



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Car Sex, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Holidays, Humor, Oral Sex, Pete's World, Public Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:49:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhosInTheAttic/pseuds/WhosInTheAttic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the days leading up to their first Christmas together in Pete's World, Rose copes with the Doctor's ugly Christmas jumper, and he searches for the perfect gift to give her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nineteen Days Until Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> See the inspiration for the Doctor's ugly Christmas jumper [here](http://whosintheattic.livejournal.com/8649.html).

Rose stood beside him on the walkway, arms loaded down with bags. “Are you alright, Doctor?” she asked, her genuine concern tinged with a bit of mirth. The Doctor, his arms also full of bags, had slipped on a patch of ice on the pavement and landed on his bum. He wasn’t seriously injured, but she could tell by the way he’d contorted his face that the vigorous rubbing he was giving his bum wasn’t just for show.

She held out an arm for him to grab and, using her for leverage, he pulled himself to his feet. He stood gingerly, and tried to squirm about discreetly. He turned to grin at her, “Only thing wounded is my pride, Rose,” he said as he stooped to pick up the bags he’d dropped in an effort to catch himself. She was silently thankful that she had been the one carrying all the breakables.

“And your arse,” she smiled.

“That too,” he admitted with a sigh, giving the part in question another rub before stooping to pick up the last of the bags. She threw a piteous look to his backside as he continued up the pavement; he was clearly hurting more than he was willing to let on, and Rose was certain that it was a matter of being human now, as if admitting he’d bruised his arse somehow made him less in her eyes than the man he’d always been. Where his counterpart would’ve denied the incident with a few exaggerated phrases and gestures, and maybe a bit of a speech, her human Doctor was more like the first; denial mixed with stoicism that she could see through simply by looking into his eyes.

_-_-_-_-_-_

They’d tucked all the shopping into the cupboard, and finally removed their jackets. Rose bit her lip and rolled her eyes at the sight of the ugly Christmas jumper the Doctor was wearing. He’d found it. Again. It was absolutely terrible; all the typical Christmas colors with frolicking reindeer and snowflakes on it; the only thing it was missing was glitter and ridiculous pompoms. She’d buried it in the laundry twice, and another time had kicked it under the bed. The last time he’d worn it, she had stripped it off of him in the kitchen; they’d made love on the countertop, and while he was distracted with post-coital nibbles, she’d stuffed it under the kitchen sink.

And yet he always seemed to locate it. She wasn’t sure if he truly liked it (oh, she hoped not, but after what he’d shared about the sartorial choices of his past selves, she did worry), liked it ironically, or simply wore it to aggravate her. She quirked an eyebrow at him and settled on the latter.

“Doctor? Why don’t you take some paracetamol tablets, and let me run you a bath?”

“Now why would I do that?”

“Well, because you’re not fooling me with that bruised bum, and…I thought maybe I could join you.”

His face brightened as his eyes darkened at the way she’d intoned the suggestion. His eyes followed her as she moved toward their bedroom with just a little extra sway in her hips. She disappeared inside, and moments later he heard the bath running in their en suite. He popped into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of paracetamol from the cabinet and shook two tablets out before returning it. He downed them with a glass of water and eagerly moved to join Rose. His bum may have been sore, but he was still eager, stripping his jumper off and dropping it on the floor outside their bedroom, followed closely by his Henley and his vest; he paused one moment longer to drop and step out of his trousers.

When he entered the room, he was in nothing but his pants. Rose looking him up and down appraisingly and bit her lip, shifting in the bubbly water, “You sit in front,” she insisted, “I’ll wash your back.” She smiled, watching him raptly as he removed his last scrap of clothing, taking in the lean curves of his body as he lowered himself into the water. She could see the bruise already pooling under the milky skin of his left arse cheek.

Once settled in, the last of the night air chased from their bones, Rose wrung a wet flannel over his shoulders, letting the warm water run in rivulets down his skin. She did that several times before actually wiping at his skin; it wasn’t as if he was dirty anyway, but this had become a bit of a ritual for them, little intimate moments they could steal for themselves. She traced her fingertips lightly across his shoulders, and learned forward to kiss the back of his neck before beginning to knead the knots from his shoulders.

“So,” she said quietly, “This will be our first Christmas together…again.”

He hummed in approval at the work of her hands, and answered “Yep,” popping the p, and she can hear in the way he breathes that he’s smiling. “Ghosts in Cardiff, sword-fighting Sycorax over London; I have a feeling this time around isn’t going to be nearly as…eventful.” He sounded a bit wistful, but also a bit relieved.

“Well, you never know,” she leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his back as she breathed into his ear, “Parallel universe or not, this is still London.”

“Most jeopardy-friendly city on Earth,” he grinned and turned his head to kiss her. Rose dropped the flannel into the water and curled her arms around his torso. It was an odd angle, especially when they leaned back, but the feel of his skin on hers, the feel of his lips pressed to hers (even as he winces against her mouth, shifting over his bruised bum), it’s exactly where she wants to be, crick in her neck be damned.

Rose stroked his chest in little circles, caressing his nipples before moving to his waist. She grasped him gently before allowing one hand to drift toward his cock. The angles were weird, and the length of his torso made it difficult, but he shifted for her, and she took his length in hand, stroking him lazily beneath the water as they continued to kiss languidly.

After several minutes, the pain in Rose’s neck became too much; she nipped at the Doctor’s lip as she broke the kiss. “I think we should move this to the bed.”

_-_-_-_-_-_

Toweled off and still naked, the Doctor hadn’t lost any of his vigor. In fact he seemed more eager than ever as he moved toward Rose, who was already stretched out luxuriously on the bed. She crooked a finger at him, and instantly he was on her, covering her body with his own, his lips seeking out the hollow beneath her ear.

When he nipped her skin, Rose arched her body against him and curled her fingers into his hair. He slipped a hand between them and ran his fingers down her stomach, past her navel, and over the light thatch of hair just above her folds. He paused to ruffle it with his fingertips, teasing her before moving further down.

She sighed into his ear as he stroked her; she was wet and eager to have him, opening her legs further to allow him better access. He slipped one finger into her, stroking her walls a few times before withdrawing to add a second as he pressed his thumb into her clit.

After a month of awkward tension and long looks between them, Rose and her new, new, new Doctor had finally fallen into bed together. Initially the Doctor was dismayed to find that he didn’t have the control he once did; but over the course of weeks he learned, and was a quick study on everything there was to know about pleasing Rose Tyler.

Tonight was no exception, she knew, as he kissed his way down along the curve of her clavicle, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat for a moment before moving to her breasts, wrapping his lips around first her right nipple, and then her left. He laved each with his tongue until it was hard, nuzzling them with his nose before planting kisses over the rest of her breast as well. Her body grew hotter and hotter under his attentions, and all that warmth pooled low in her belly and made it tighten. She ached and wanted now, wanted him so badly. She could feel herself coming so close to the edge, but she wanted him inside of her, filling her. “Doctor,” she breathed, curling her fingers further into his damp hair. “Want you,” she sighed.

His response to her plea was to move his lips down the length of her body and replace his fingers with his tongue. She squirmed under his ministrations, and he responded with a steadying hand on her hip, slipping his fingers into her once more as he covered her clit with his mouth.

Rose gasped and writhed under his hold as he worked his mouth against her. The feel of his soft lips around her, his tongue whirling and curling against her, the way his fingers pressed into the wet curves of her body…it all felt incredible; it was consuming. She settled her right leg over his shoulder, his skin hot on the back of her thigh, his hair and sideburn tickling her tender flesh. She looked down her body at him, the muscles in his jaw working furiously; there was something about the way his lashes fluttered at the edges of his closed eyelids that made her heart (and other places) melt. She groaned and bucked into him, and he hummed his approval against her.

The feel of his voice vibrating against her flesh was too much, and the tension that had been building in her finally gave way. The Doctor growled against her as she came, allowing his tongue to slip once again to her entrance, circling it before plunging in to sample the evidence of her pleasure.

As her orgasm subsided, she cried out breathlessly, “Doctor…please…need you.”

He wiped his chin as discreetly as possible and crept back up her form, placing kisses in all the landmark locations: hip bones, navel, ribs, breasts, collarbones. He could feel his erection, painfully hard and weeping, and he murmured against her skin. “I need you Rose,” he whispered between kisses, “like I need air.” Finally he reached her neck and spoke so closely to her skin that each word was like its own kiss. “We’re going to have a very happy Christmas, Rose. This is just the first—well, sort-of first—of many.”

Rose smiled and turned her cheek into his in an effort to claim his lips, but he pulled back. “Rose Tyler, I love you.”

They smiled at each other, and then he covered her mouth with his own. He felt her fingers skating down his torso, one hand resting on his hip, and the other reaching between them to take him in hand. She guided him to her opening, and his whole body trembled at the feel of her heat. He pushed into her slowly, his gasp of pleasure mingling with her quiet sigh as she kissed him languorously.

He began a slow and gentle pace, savoring the feel of her around him and under him; he sighed her name over and over again against her lips, until they weren’t kissing, but gazing at each other, each wearing an identical look of awe that of all places, this is where they’d ended up.

Rose looked into the Doctor’s eyes, and could swear she saw something click into place for him in that moment. He was so full of love, that—in this moment, at least—there was no room for the lifetime of loneliness and loss he had known before her. She thought it was her own vanity, or perhaps that she was projecting her own feelings on him; her love for him made everything fit, even in this new universe where nothing else seemed to.

She rocked her hips against his, encouraging him to increase his speed, to take her faster and harder, and he responded energetically. He reached down to pull her leg further up his hip and soon they were a tangle of limbs and flesh and sweat, marking each other with teeth and lips and tongues. Words with and without meaning drifted between them, devolved into grunts and expletives as they moved harder and faster against each other.

The Doctor gripped Rose’s hips as he rolled them over, holding her close until she was straddling him. She planted her hands on his chest as she rocked her hips against him, and his fingers curled against her hips tightly enough that she was sure they’d leave marks. But she didn’t care. “Doctor,” she moaned. “Doctor!” she called out again, her rhythm becoming erratic as she strove for the orgasm that was just within reach.

“Rose!” he answered, bucking into her from below. He released her hip and moved his fingers to her clit, rubbing little circles against it, allowing her motions to carry her forward into his touch, and then…oh…he felt her muscles clench around him and he groaned. She took in a big shuddering gasp, and then it was happening; her body was clutching at him, squeezing him, wanting him so much closer, and suddenly he followed right after.

Rose collapsed on his chest and caged him between her arms; her breath against his neck slowly growing steadier between the soft kisses she placed there. After several minutes of lying that way, Rose rolled off of him and curled into his side.

She traced nonsensical patterns onto his chest with her fingertips until they both fell asleep.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Rose awoke in the middle of the night with a pressing need to use the loo.

On her way back from the bathroom, she spotted the Doctor’s jumper where he’d left it on the floor. The only light in the room was from the alarm clock on the night table, but she could see the outline of her Doctor, fast asleep. She quickly pushed the jumper beneath the chest of drawers with her foot before climbing back into bed and curling up beside him.


	2. Eleven Days Until Christmas

“Gimme a hand with this, love?” Rose asked, “Well, just a finger really,” she elaborated, holding two ends of ribbon taut around a present.

“Sure,” the Doctor said, sticking an index finger over the place where the ribbon intersected. He held it there until she was able to knot it, and pulled his finger free just before it became part of the packaging.

“Thanks,” she looked up from the present to shoot him a smile before reaching for the scissors; Jackie liked curly ribbon on her gifts. “D’you think Mum’ll like it? If Bazoolium couldn’t even impress her, I don’t know what good this will do,” she said playfully.

The Doctor detected a hint of sadness in her tone, “Of course she’ll like it! Love it, even; it’s from you,” he smiled. “Now, which paper do you think I should use to wrap Tony’s football? The blue and white with the penguins, or the red and green with the reindeer?”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The Doctor and Rose had finished wrapping the last of their gifts—most of which were for her brother—and cleaned up the detritus. “Mum and Dad are gonna be here soon,” she said, tucking the last of the tubes of wrapping paper into the cupboard. Twice a month, the Tylers got together—just the adults—for supper, and tonight it was the Doctor and Rose’s turn to host.

The Doctor was leaning against the jamb of the archway that separated the dining room from the living room, and as Rose walked past, he caught her under the elbow, “Ah-ah,” he said, pointing upward.

Rose followed his gaze to find that he’d hung a sprig of mistletoe in the archway, and as she grinned, he pulled her in for a kiss. His lips were soft and warm against hers, and though she’d kissed them countless times, she knew she would never tire of it. He had a way of getting her bottom lip between both of his, and when his tongue traced across it, chills went down her spine and burst into bubbles of warmth in her belly. She pulled back, her forehead pressed to his, “Good to know our werewolf protection plan is in place,” she said, going in for another kiss, smiling against his lips.

The Doctor hummed his assent against her mouth before pulling her to him and deepening the kiss, slipping his tongue past her parted lips to move against the warm curves of her mouth. Her tongue slid along his and chased it back into his mouth, where she flicked at it and explored him thoroughly. She withdrew to pull his lower lip between hers; she sucked it until it was nearly sore and looked swollen and well-kissed.

He turned them, and pressed Rose against the wall, returning the favor and savoring her full beautiful lips. He cupped her breasts over her blouse and she sighed against his lips before skating her hand down his torso and cupping him over his trousers. He gasped and pulled back, “Your parents will be here soon.”

Rose only squeezed him firmly and, with a seductive smirk, replied, “We’d better be quick then.” She flipped them again and pressed his back to the wall, as Rose pulled at the button and fly of his trousers, sliding down the length of his body and coming to rest on her knees.

“Rose—”

“Shhh,” she soothed, “Let me,” and then her mouth was on him. She was warm and wet and when she did that thing with her tongue, it nearly made his eyes cross. 

“Rose,” he gasped, the flat of her tongue working the underside of his shaft and her right hand curled firmly around the base made his toes curl and his kneecaps tingle.

She merely hummed, and the sensation created around his cock made him tremble and let out a barely stifled groan. “Oh Rose, oh my, _fffuu—_ ” he pressed the knuckles of his hand into his mouth to curb the expletive struggling to make its way out. He was often quite opposed to cursing, as far as he himself was concerned, but Rose seemed to relish the times when his control faltered.

Her tongue fluttered against the tip of his cock, and he groaned, “Oh fuck!” and Rose moaned around him in response, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through him.

Rose’s eyes were shut, savoring the feel of him trembling beneath her attentions, the sound of his voice as he grew more and more breathless; she loved when he lost control of his language, when what she did to him got him swearing in English. On rare occasions, he would slip into Gallifreyan; sometimes, just the way his mouth held the alien words was enough to undo her, even though she didn’t know what they meant.

“Rose…Rose, I’m going to…I’m…”

She knew what he was trying to say, but she didn’t want to stop. She wanted to bring him off right there, against the wall, feel him pulse against her lips as he emptied himself. She wanted to taste him on her tongue…

He came then, and his knees nearly gave out with the force of it. He wanted to call out to her, but all he could manage was a wordless sound halfway between a growl and a moan. He could feel her tongue and jaw working as she swallowed his essence, and he whimpered as she continued to gently caress his diminishing length with her tongue.

Rose pulled back, and the Doctor reached down to tuck himself away. She got to her feet, and learned in to whisper, “I love you,” into his ear.

“I love you, too,” he smiled, pulling her to him, whirling to bring them both under the mistletoe once more. He gave her a thorough and proper snog, and when he pulled away, he said darkly, “There will be more where that came from _here_ ,” he whispered, cupping her sex, “After your parents leave.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

No sooner had Rose and the Doctor gotten themselves sorted than there was a buzz at the door. Rose opened it to find her mum and dad, loaded down with gift bags.

Jackie thrust a casserole into the Doctor’s arms, “Just a mo’ sweetheart; I left the pie in the car,” and with that, she disappeared down the hall. Rose waved Pete into the flat and he looked about.

“Where should I put the gifts then?”

“Oh, on the table over there, Dad,” Rose gestured to the table in the corner, draped with a large pine green table cloth and decorated with ribbons and ceramic snowmen.

“No tree then?”

“Don’t trust ‘em,” Rose said, shooting a knowing look at the Doctor.

“And you support this?” Pete asked the Doctor, gesturing at the table, seemingly appalled by the idea that a couple such as themselves wouldn’t have a tree at Christmas.

The Doctor rubbed the back of his head, then slid his hand down to tug at his ear, “Welll, it puts a different shade on it when you’ve had one try to kill you…twice.”

“Twice?” Rose asked.

“Oh yes, two years in a row,” he grinned. Pete arched an eyebrow, and the Doctor elaborated as Jackie re-entered the flat. “Well, they weren’t _actual_ Christmas trees; they were remote controlled by alien androids, but still…”

“Are you having me on?” Pete said incredulously.

“Oh, he isn’t!” Jackie chimed, “That Christmas tree tore up half the flat and nearly took me with it!” she exclaimed, “It was after this one,” she tilted her head toward the Doctor, before smiling, “but the three of us weren’t having any of that,” Jackie smiled, a wistful look passing between her and Rose for just a moment as they thought of Mickey.

The Doctor turned to Pete and said, “Then I averted a world crisis in time for Christmas supper,” he grinned cheekily, “In my jimjams,” he looked almost smug.

“Right,” Pete said flatly, “That’s you all over, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” the Doctor replied, popping the p.


	3.  Five Days Until Christmas

Rose stood in the concourse of the shopping center, utterly bewildered; the crowd surged and bustled around her, and she soon wondered why she’d come at all. Taking a deep breath and plunging into the throngs, she headed for the one place she    
_knew_   
would have something to interest the Doctor; the electronics store.

Once inside, she wandered the length of the walls, side-stepping other customers as she surveyed the bits and bobs. “Can I help you?” a clean-looking man in a pale blue Oxford and khakis asked. She turned to look at him, her eyes flicking to his name badge, which read  _Doug._

“Yeah,” she said hesitantly, still distracted by the store displays, “I’m looking for something for my...boyfriend,” she smiled internally; that word seemed weird on her tongue, and really inadequate to describe what he was to her.

“Well, have you considered the latest smart phone?”

“I’d like something a bit more high-tech than that.”

“We’ve got the latest line of gaming PCs; running Windows 12, two terabyte hard drive, fifteen gigs of RAM, and seven gigs of M-RAM.”

“Can I see it?” Rose asked, though she wasn’t entirely convinced it would be the right gift; in fact, the Doctor would probably laugh at its lack of capacity. Even more likely, he would take it apart and leave the bits strewn about the flat.

She ponders that as the Doug gives his little sales speech. When an appropriate pause arises, she asks, “D’you have parts? Like, circuit boards and that?”

“Yes,” he replies, the light fading from his eyes as he sees his big commission circling the drain.

“I’d like to see those.”

“Right this way,” Doug said, waving his arm toward the back of the store. Rose followed, and was amazed to see the extent of the shop’s wares. The entire wall was lined with bins, each full of packets or little plastic boxes; to the left were hanging displays and rolls of wire. Once behind the counter, Doug spoke, “Your boyfriend a bit of a hobbyist, is he?”

Rose grins, “You could say that,” she said, smiling.

“I assume he has all the tools then?” she nods, “So what would you like?”

“A bit of everything, really. This has always been his thing, not mine; though I know a thing or two about a thing or two. I want him to be able to put some trinkets together; want to make sure he’s got enough supplies and all that.” Rose knew a bit more about the electronics than she was letting on, but sometimes she liked to test the waters when dealing with salespeople; see if they would try to pull a fast one because she’s a pretty blonde rather than a bloke like…well, like the Doctor.

“I can help you put together a nice assortment,” he smiled, then added a bit uncomfortably, “what sort of budget are you working with?”

“The sort of budget that gets the best for my bloke,” she smiled, a bit embarrassed as she tried to assume the look of someone to whom money was no object, still not comfortable in the High Society role she found herself in here. She didn’t fancy herself the ‘moneyed type’ even though, she supposed, she now was.

“Alright then,” Doug smiled, and turned to assemble a collection of high-end parts fit for a king, including several bits and bobs he only wished he could afford, as well as several spools of insulated wires. Once he had everything assembled, he turned back to her and said, “That just about does it; is there anything else you’d like?”

Rose thinks a moment, “Jacks, cables, and soldering wire,” she considers, “and…I suppose I’ll have to pick up the burn ointment and plasters on the way home,” she smiles. Doug grins, and she says, a bit more quietly, “I’d also like four of them laptops y’showed me,” and Rose feels her cheeks flush, as if her wealth showing was more embarrassing than if she’d split her trousers and a crowd of folks had seen her knickers.

“Four?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure thing,” he smiled, and slipped out from behind the counter. A few moments later, he returned, his arms encumbered with four sleek-looking boxes. He set them on the counter between them and said, “These are ready to use, right out of the box. All back-up discs are enclosed as well as the customer service numbers for both the company and our store.

“Thank you,” she said, handing him her charge card. She saw Doug’s eyes go wide with recognition at the name embossed on the card, but other than that, his demeanor remained unchanged.

They finished up the last of the formalities, and Rose gathered up the bags, “Merry Christmas,” she said to Doug before turning to leave.

“And to you, Miss Tyler,” he said.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Once at home, Rose slipped off her shoes and socks, eager to wrap the gifts and get them on the gift table; last week they’d added a wooden carving of a reindeer to the décor, and she thought she could tuck the gift behind it, and see how long it took him to notice it was there.

She found a large decorative gift box in the hall closet; one of their finds from an earlier outing that they hadn’t ended up using, and chose a few rolls of colorful paper, some ribbon, and clear tape.

She sat in the center of the floor with the prezzies around her before filling the gift box with the bits and bobs and spools of wire. She packed the rest of the box full of balled-up tissue paper to keep the parts steady; the Doctor was a bit of a snoop and liked to shake the gifts and guess their contents. Three days ago, she had to replace a crystal sculpture she’d purchased for her mother after his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

She chose blue, white, and silver ribbons to tie around the box; and, without another person there to assist, resorted to using her big toe to hold the ribbon in place as she completed the knot. She curled the ribbon and placed a great, big silver bow on top. On the card she affixed to the top, she wrote, _“To the Doctor, from Rose.”_

“That’s rubbish,” she muttered, and scratched it out, taking a new card and writing instead, _“All my love, Rose.”_ She thought it was a bit soppy, but so what? It _was_ Christmas.

She made short work of the computers, wrapping them two-together and sparing a bit of the fanfare. After disposing of the paper clippings and shopping bags and returning the gift-wrapping supplies to the cupboard, she tucked the gifts onto the table.

Of course, on Christmas Day, these would be the gifts she’d give him in the company of her parents; useful, thoughtful, and not at all suggestive. Unlike the box she was looking at just then; she’d wrapped it in a red paper with holly leaves on it. She grinned impishly thinking of the contents.

She surveyed the rest of the gifts on the table, realizing that there were quite a few bits of negligee, lingerie and assorted pairs of knickers marked for him. She really looked forward to seeing the look on his face, both upon opening each one, and when he removed them from her body.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The Doctor stared nervously into the display case, eyes flitting over jewels of multiples colors set into earrings, rings, necklaces, and even _toe_ rings. He’d been working as a university professor, but had taken a few consulting jobs at Torchwood to pad his bank account; he hadn’t _lied_ to Rose, so much as _omitted,_ with Pete Tyler, of course, as his accomplice. He had no intention of keeping the secret after Christmas was all said and done, but for now…

It felt strange to be so in love with Rose Tyler, yet still so clueless about what to get her as a gift; without all of time and space at his fingertips, the ability to flit off to some alien moon to retrieve something beautiful and exotic, he was at a bit of a loss.

“Can I help you?” the woman behind the counter asked calmly.

“Ah, yes. I’d like to buy a bit of jewelry for my—” he pauses to rub at the back of his neck, “Rose. My _girlfriend_ Rose.” The word feels small and silly in his mouth, but that was the human word for this human relationship they had in this human life they shared. _Girlfriend_ sounded sophomoric, but _lover_ was too sexual, _best mate_ wasn’t sexual enough, and _soul mate—_ while true in a sense—just sounded soppy. So _girlfriend_ it was.

“What sort of jewelry are you in the market for, Mister…?”

“Noble,” he says, offering a hand. “ _Doctor_ John Noble; and I think I’d like to look at earrings. Rose looks brilliant in the long dangly ones…she likes them, too.”

The saleswoman (Gladys, her badge says) indicates what he’s looking for a short length down the counter, and bends down to retrieve a rack of earrings. The Doctor looks them over, his fingertips brushing over a few pieces before he says, “Do you have anything a bit more…elegant?” he asks, thinking both in terms of the size of the stones—Rose should be seen in something fit for the heiress to a multi-billion dollar conglomerate—and the style; his mind wandered back to a Christmas across the Void and over a century away.

Gladys catches half his meaning, and smiles. “Of course, Dr. Noble,” she says, moving down the counter again after replacing the first rack. She sets a new rack on the counter and he looks it over.

“Do any of these come in sets? Maybe a matching necklace, or…er…rings?” he asks. She indicates the ones that do, and he’s thrilled that his first choice is included among them. “Do you think—and I know it’s short notice, of course—you could have these refitted with blue sapphires rather than diamonds?”

Gladys arches an eyebrow, but knows better than to assume he couldn’t afford it based on his attire, “Absolutely; there’s an extra fee for the customization, of course, but we could have it ready for you to pick up on Christmas Eve morning, if you’d like to make an appointment.”

“Brilliant!”

The Doctor sorted out the particulars, and left the store reeling at how many pounds he’d spent, but still quite chuffed about the whole thing. He wandered around to a few more shops, wandering into one shop to sniff the dozens of organic lotions and body sprays, and leaving with a few he liked.

When he was done, he rang Rose on her mobile. “Hey, love. Are you at the flat?”

“No, I’m at mum’s. I’ll be back there around nine, I think.”

“Alright. I’ll see you then.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The Doctor returned home and settled in to wrap the gifts he’d bought, a knot still in his stomach at the thought of the jewelry he’d purchased. He hoped that she would like his selection; he was never known for having an enviable fashion sense. He smirked at one particular purchase before turning instead to the organic Cinnamon-Vanilla lotion he’d bought for her. He opened the tube to smell it, and found it heavenly. He couldn’t help but imagine Rose’s soft hands spreading it over her skin, her fingers flexing as she rubbed it in, and the way her body would arch as he licked it from her...

The Doctor squeezed just a bit of the lotion onto his finger and then rubbed at it with his thumb before tasting it. _Yes,_ he thought, _this will do nicely._ He pulled his finger from between his lips with a wet _pop,_ and refocused his mind on the task at hand.

He bit his lip and furrowed his brows as he surveyed the wrapped gifts. “Ah-ha!” he shouted and sprang to his feet. He did have the perfect gift for Rose. At least he thought he did. He dashed into their bedroom and pulled open the door to the cupboard, reaching into the back to retrieve his blue pinstriped suit. He’d had several made upon arriving in this universe, and wore them often for the first few months, but the one he’d arrived in—that one he kept in the cupboard.

He tugged the jacket from the hanger and brought it over to the bed to rifle through the pockets; they were full of bits of string, a packet of stale Jelly Babies, various electronics parts, a bolt from the TARDIS control panel, a toy mouse, and a dozen other things. He reached his arm into the breast pocket and pulled out what he was looking for.

“Perfect,” he smiled.


	4.  Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To see the negligee featured in this section, click [here](http://whosintheattic.livejournal.com/9617.html).

Rose and the Doctor returned to their flat at half past eight, stuffed from Christmas supper and seeing spots from Jackie’s incessant photo-taking.

“Did you see the _look_ on Tony’s face when he opened the BuildyBlocks?” the Doctor enthused. He and Rose had picked them out together more than a week ago, and just as she had done at the store, she scoffed.

“I still say they’re Legos.”

“Interlocking blocks, Rose. Really, does the name matter?” he smiled.

“I s’pose not,” she said reluctantly. “He did seem to like them quite a lot.”

“And your mum _loved_ your gift; I told you she would, didn’t I? I said, ‘Of course she’ll love it, Rose,’ didn’t I?”

“Yes Doctor,” she placated.

He continued, “Good on you for suggesting we test out the coffeemaker; I don’t think your dad would’ve accepted it without that little reassurance after the blender incident.”

“Well, it _did_ destroy their cabinets,” she chuckled.

“Oi! I was still testing out my new sonic; the settings are bit different,” he crossed his arms in mock offense, “besides, I thought it was a lovely anniversary gift.”

“We still have a few prezzies here to open,” she says, giving him a tongue-touched smile and nodding toward their gift table.

“Are you telling me you got me _more_ presents? You keep this up, Rose Tyler, and I’ll feel like a kept man. I’m not sure if I like that,” he grinned, clearly excited that there were more presents to come, “Actually, I have a few more for you, too,” he admitted.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The Doctor’s first gift to Rose was an ugly Christmas jumper. “Next year, we can match,” he smiles.

“Seriously?” she groaned. Maybe he was unaware that the only thing worse than one ugly Christmas jumper was a soppy couple in _matching_ ugly Christmas jumpers.

“Of course I’m serious!” he said, “Well, as soon as I find mine; it seems to have gone missing again,” he eyed her with playful suspicion.

Rose reached for a small gift bag and handed it to him, “This one’s for you,” she grinned.

He smiled and reached in, pulling out a pair of barely-there knickers. He quirked an eyebrow, “Rose, they’re lovely, really…but I don’t think they’ll fit me. Moreover, I don’t think that _I_ will fit _them,”_ he winked.

“Now _there’s_ a thought,” she bit her lip and waggled her eyebrows.

He tucks the skimpy knickers back into the bag, and hands her a flat, rectangular package. When she peels back the paper, she smiles. “Thought you’d never pay up,” she said softly. In her hands was a matted and framed ten-pound note from their home universe.

“You can’t spend it here, of course, but a bet is a bet.”

“’s better like this,” she smiled, and hugged it to herself, “Our first trip to the past, yeah? After…” she leaned over and palmed his cheek as she planted a kiss on his lips, “I say we hang it,” she paused to glance around the mostly-bare walls of their flat, “There,” she pointed to the spot between two windows. She set it aside and handed him another box; inside was another set of racy lingerie.

“I’m beginning to detect a pattern,” he grins, picking up another bag, “And what’s in here?” he grinned, reaching inside to discover a piece of white negligee with a matching pair of lacy knickers. He quirked an eyebrow. “Any chance I can convince you to put this on now?” he grinned.

“Well, it is _your_ prezzie,” she says seductively, and plucks the clothing from his hand before disappearing into the bathroom. While inside, she primped her hair a bit, and checked in the full-length mirror to be sure her bum looked as good in this today as it had when she’d bought it.

When she returned to the sitting room, she couldn’t help but giggle. The Doctor had stripped down to his boxer-briefs and put on a piece of lacy black negligee. “Two can play this game, Rose,” he said, waggling his eyebrows, and sprawling out on the carpet in mock-seduction.

Rose laughed when he pulled the tie open, and sat up as he said, “Do you like my manly, hairy chest, Rose?”

She closed the distance between them, and knelt in his lap, a leg to either side of his hips. She pushed the negligee from his shoulders and whispered, “I love your manly hairy chest, Doctor.”

It was then that she rocked her hips into his, and he suddenly became very aware of the fine hairs on the fuzzy cuffs of her nightie as they brushed against his skin, and the way her hard nipples showed through the sheer fabric. He wiggled his arms to get the lacy dressing gown off of himself, and turned his face up in time for Rose to cover his lips with hers.

As her tongue slid past his lips and moved against his tongue, his hands moved lightly along the bare flesh of her torso, the soft fabric rasping softly over the backs of his hands. “Rose,” he whispered against her lips as he cupped her breasts. “You are, _beautiful,”_ he sighed, taking in a deep breath to savor the smell of her. He moved his lips to her neck and slowly ran his tongue from her clavicle to her ear before pulling the lobe into his mouth and sucking, allowing the breath exhaled from his nose to tickle the little wisps of hair at her hairline. It made her body prickle with goose bumps, and she gasped.

He pulled away to look at her in the sexy outfit, “Rose?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“I think I’d like to unwrap my present now.”

“That’s a very good idea,” she said, pressing herself against his growing erection.

He pulled her to himself and managed to get to his feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he supported her weight by cupping her bum; in that manner they moved toward the bedroom, and once inside, the Doctor dropped her onto the bed and covered her body with his own, kissing the valley between her breasts, and using his hands to push them together against his cheeks, nuzzling, kissing, and nipping at each one in turn as he rocked his hips slightly against the mattress.

After lavishing her breasts, his mouth covered hers and his hand slid between them to stroke her over her knickers. She whimpered and arched into his touch as he caressed her, the fabric soaking through with her need. He moved down the length of her body, leaving a trail of kisses from her clavicle to her navel. The Doctor pulled her panties off and settled himself between her legs, pressing teasingly light kisses to her inner thighs until she raked her hands into his hair and pulled his mouth to where she wanted it most.

The feel of his tongue against her and inside of her was divine. He used his tongue, his lips, and even his teeth in tandem until she was flushed and pink, whimpering and keening beneath him. “Doctor,” she sighed, as she felt the coil of pleasure low in her belly reach its limits.

He continued his rhythm and began to hum and growl against her flesh, the sound of his name on her lips nearly too much to bear, the knowledge that doing this would bring her off making his cock twitch and ache with desire.

She felt him groan against her again, and it was too much; she was awash in pleasure, hips struggling under his firm grip to buck harder against his mouth as he lapped at her. As she came down, and words returned to her, she sighed, “Doctor,” but before she could say anything more, he moved up her body and claimed her lips with his.

Rose moaned into his mouth and nipped at his lower lip, savoring the way their flavors mingled. He reached down and quickly positioned himself, thrusting deeply into her. He broke the kiss to let out a groan against her neck, nipping it before shifting his position so that he could hook her knees in the crooks of his elbows, shifting her body and allowing himself deeper.

She called out to him as he pushed further into her, rolling her hips to the rhythm he set for them. “Oh Doctor…” she breathed, “Harder. Please…” she gasped, “Harder.”

The Doctor obeyed, taking in the way she bit her lip, the way her brow furrowed, the way her breasts rocked with the motion he was creating. The sight of her beneath him was too much, and drove him nearly to the edge. He reached for her clit, rubbing circles against it. “Come for me, Rose, come for me. Please, come,” he said, his voice growing more and more ragged and breathless with every word as his muscles tensed. “I want to feel you come.” Her muscles clenched around him once, twice, and he gasped, “Oh…Rose…I’m going to…please…please come _with_ me,” he gasped before his orgasm overtook him.

The feel of him inside of her, his thumb working her clit, the desperation in his words, and the sound of pleasure ripped from his throat all combined to drive her over the edge, her moans mingling with his; their orgasms subsiding as he collapsed into her embrace.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The Doctor returned to the bedroom with a glass of water and a small box, handing the glass to Rose before joining her between the sheets. She took a sip, her hair tangled and face still glowing; she looked thoroughly shagged, and the Doctor was quite proud of himself.

“I have one more gift for you,” he said, “I meant to give it to you earlier, but we got…distracted.” He handed her the long flat box.

Rose untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. “Oh, Doctor,” she sighed. Inside was a silver necklace, adorned with a rectangular pendant inlaid with diamonds and blue sapphires; there was no mistaking the design. “’s beautiful.”

“Like the sexy knickers, it’s a bit for both of us; you get to wear it, but when you do, I get to look at it and be reminded of all the places where I fell more and more in love with you. It will remind us both of what led us to this moment.”

She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and she pulled him in by his shoulder for a kiss. After, he gestured at the box, “Also, there’s a matching set of earrings.”

Rose had a look at those; long, dangly things that hung from her lobes to the tops of her shoulders, set with little blue sapphires. They were stunningly beautiful. “They’ll look lovely with that little black dress you always wear when you’re trying to seduce me on a night out,” he grinned.

“Is that you askin’ me for a night out?”

“I do believe it is; do you accept?”

“Yes.”


	5. Boxing Day

  
“No. No, absolutely not.”

“But Ro-se,” he elongates the ‘o’ while cajoling.  


“Doctor, I can’t. I really can’t go out to breakfast in,” she pauses clenching her jaw, “ _that.”_

The Doctor isn’t hearing any of it; he thrusts her new Christmas jumper into her hands, “But I found mine—under the chest of drawers, strangely enough—and now we can both wear them before it’s socially unacceptable!”

“Says the man who told me he once wore a stalk of celery,” she muttered.

“You’re saying I could wear this jumper all year, then?” he grinned playfully.

“No. You’re right; what was I thinking?” she counters, “This is clearly the last acceptable day for Christmas jumpers.”

“Exactly. All the more reason for us to wear them together,” he smiles, and the way his mouth holds the word ‘together’ reminds her of what he said to her on Bad Wolf Bay. She’s wistful for a split second, followed by the warmth in her chest of a woman utterly in love.

“Alright then,” she sighs, pulling the jumper over her t-shirt, “Breakfast, yeah?”

“Yep,” and as he follows behind her, throwing on his winter coat, he knows she loves him more than she hates the garish colors on his hideous jumper.


	6.  New Year's Eve

They were out at a posh restaurant; Rose a bit chilled in her little black dress, strappy heels, and the jewelry he’d bought her, and himself clad in his most expensive blue pinstripes. He was wearing a set of maroon dress shoes with white stitching, and had Rose could tell he’d made an effort to tidy his hair, though it still jutted about in its usual fashion.

After their meal, they stepped onto the terrace for some air; it was unseasonably warm, and the night air wasn’t as biting as it should’ve been. Likely the planet was still recovering from the effects of the rift, but just then Rose was feeling the effects of the wine she’d had with dinner. They’d spent quite awhile chatting at the table, long enough for the warmth of the alcohol to seep into her. The Doctor bent and leaned his elbows on the railing, and Rose admired his backside.

He seemed to be searching the skyline for an answer, “Penny for ‘em?” she asks.

“I was just thinking about the past.”

“Oh,” Rose said, trying to keep level; she had been witness to the Doctor’s melancholy on multiple occasions, and while she hoped that he wouldn’t be encumbered by it tonight, she was ready to listen to him all the same.

“Yep,” he turned to her, “About us; about a shop basement, a funeral parlor, and tonight…I’ve been thinking about what you said at Canary Wharf oh-so-long ago,” he said. Rose’s heart started to thump a little harder in her chest; the Doctor rarely said the words, ‘Canary Wharf’ if he ever referred to that day at all, and if he did it was, ‘the day I lost you’.

“Y-you have?” she said, and was surprised to find herself a bit breathless.

“Yeah,” he tucked his hands into his pockets and looked at his shoes, and noticing one was untied, he stooped to retie it. She looked to the skyline for a moment, speculating what he might say, when he took her hand. “Rose?” she looked down at him. “I’m never going to leave you either,” he said, looking up at her, “I love you with all my hearts—heart—and I,” he pauses, and presents her with a small velvet box, “Rose Tyler, will you marry me?” Her eyes searched his, then to the silver band set with blue sapphires, and back to his eyes again as he continued to speak.

“When we came to this universe, I only had the clothes on my back. And well, that ten quid, too I suppose—and some bits and bobs, and an old packet of Jelly Babies.” He paused, his brows furrowing as he realized he was babbling. He took a breath and continued, “I can’t give you the stars. I can’t give you time and space,” he said, his voice cracking, “but…there’s me.” He breathed, wondering if those words held the same weight for her that they did for him. “I can give you _me_ …if you want.”

Rose looked down at him, her eyes with tears in the face of his earnest words. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked, so she just nodded, her tears spilling silently down her cheeks, “Yes,” she finally croaks, “Yes, Doctor; I want.”

Her head swam as he plucked the ring from its perch and slipped it onto her finger. The moment seemed surreal; then again, most of their relationship had been. Even in the months leading up to Canary Wharf, when they’d fallen into a seemingly perfect rhythm, she hadn’t let herself think of this—that a moment like this was even possible for them—yet he was on one knee before her, _telling_ her he loved her, offering himself and the promise of a life together, kissing the backs of her fingers.

The Doctor got to his feet, tucking the now-empty ring box into his jacket pocket. He cupped her cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb, “I’ve only got one life, Rose Tyler,” he smiled, “and it will be my honor to spend it with you.” Then his lips were on hers, soft and seeking. She curled her arms around him, over his shoulders, allowing the fingers of one hand to slip into the hair at the back of his head.

She slipped her tongue between his lips, and they sighed into one another’s mouths, each tasting the wine on the other’s breath. The Doctor caressed her tongue languidly with his own, wanting to savor her, and commit this moment to memory; Rose Tyler had agreed to be his wife. As he nipped at her lower lip, he realized that _wife_ was a much better word for Rose than _girlfriend_ ever was; the word sat perfectly on his mind and in his heart.

Their kiss grew deeper and more passionate, and Rose could feel her skin flushing with heat; she broke the kiss and spoke against his parted lips, “I think I’d like to take my fiancé home,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she clutched his shoulders. Her mind and body were at odds with each other, trying to decide whether to push him away or pull him closer to her until he withdrew and took her hand in his.

“Your fiancé would like to be taken home,” he said, winking at her.

They were waiting at the counter outside of the coat room, claim tickets in hand, but the attendant was nowhere to be found. “Sod this,” the Doctor whispered, and lifted the hinged counter. He tugged Rose after him, and then they were in the coat room. Rose squinted at the number on her ticket, and then at the racks of coats that lined the walls.

Rose reached out with her free hand to brush at the sleeves of the coats, moving them just enough to get a look at their claims numbers, when suddenly the Doctor pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his. He pressed his hips against hers as he walked them back against the wall, the coats cushioning the force of it. She wanted to tell him, _“Not the time, not the place, Doctor,”_ but the words just wouldn’t come. Instead all she could think was, _Your lips, I love this, I want you,_ and possibly the vague inkling that they might be caught. The possibility made warmth pool low in Rose’s belly as the Doctor’s lips moved to her neck.

She gasped as he nipped at that place below her ear; his tongue massaged it, and his breath ghosted across her ear as he exhaled through his nose, sending chills through her body. “Doctor,” she sighed, gripping his shoulders. He hummed against her skin and skated his hands down to grip her breasts for a moment before moving them again. One hand curved around her waist, his thumb stroking circles just above her hip, the other continuing down to her thigh. His fingertips crept up her skirt, and he began stroking her over her silk knickers. She whimpered softly and rocked against him, feeling his erection press into her hip.

The Doctor felt dampness at the crotch of her knickers, and he rocked his hips against Rose, allowing the pressure to give him some relief. He became impatient; he wanted her _now._ He wanted to take her right here, right now against this wall; he hooked the edge of her knickers with one finger and pulled them aside. She gasped as he teased her folds, and as she lunged for his neck, he plunged two fingers into her.

Her heart was pounding behind her ribs, and she felt hot all over; waves of desire flowing through her and cresting between her thighs, where the Doctor’s fingers were now flexing against her in the way he knew she loved.  She reached down to cup him over the front of his trousers, and gave him a firm squeeze. He hissed against her ear and thrust against her hand before returning his attentions to her neck. Rose tipped her head back to allow him easier access, and he slid his tongue down the column of her neck and dipped it into the hollow of her throat. “Doctor,” she sighed.

“Ahem,” someone said, clearing their throat. Rose and the Doctor jumped apart like they’d been sprayed with a hose, Rose immediately smoothing at her skirt, the Doctor cramming his hand—wet fingers and all—into the pocket of his trousers, “You are not supposed to be in here,” the scandalized coat room attendant announced, “I think it’s time you leave.”

“We were just,” the Doctor said, gesturing with his free hand, “looking for our coats.”

“Right,” the woman said, crossing her arms. Rose, blushing bright red, couldn’t quite look the woman in the eye. Instead, she reached into her bra and retrieved the claims tickets. The clerk tilted her head toward the exit, and Rose and the Doctor took the hint. Once on the other side of the counter, they only had to wait a moment for the woman to return with their coats.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Soon, they were in the back of one of the Vitex-owned hired cars, tucked safely behind the tinted partition, spread out over the back seat. After rucking her dress up to her hips, he unceremoniously removed her sexy Christmas knickers with his teeth, and buried his face in her folds.

Rose’s right leg rested over his shoulder, her left foot planted on the floor of the car. Her hands were tangled in his hair, pressing him to her sex as she bit her lip to stifle her cries. His tongue, his clever tongue, was buried within her, twirling and turning against her sensitive flesh as he nuzzled her, humming his approval against her smooth skin. He moved to wrap his lips around her clit, and she groaned, tightening her grip on his hair, which in turn made him moan against her flesh.

The Doctor loved the taste and feel of everything that was Rose. He loved the way she keened at the feel of his tongue tracing little circles against her, the silky feel of her wet flesh against his lips and tongue, and the way her trimmed curls tickled his nose slightly as his tongue played over her clit. Having her like this in the back of the hired car made him incredibly hard, and he ground against the seat rhythmically to keep the tension from becoming unbearable. There was a thrill to be had in fooling around in public; the thought of getting caught in the coat room was erotic—far more erotic than actually _getting_ caught (that had just been embarrassing, honestly)—and was like pouring gasoline on the fire that was his human libido.

Rose could feel herself edging closer and closer to climax, and as the minutes ticked by, she was worried they wouldn’t have enough time; suddenly the forty-five minute car ride didn’t feel like it would be long enough at all. The fear that his talented lips would leave her before she came caused her whole body to twinge with hot pleasure. She let out a small gasp, and he hummed against her.

He felt her body tense as she neared her peak, and as Rose came, her whole body trembled with the force of it. She moaned loudly before stuffing her fist partially into her mouth to stifle the cries; it wouldn’t do to be caught out with the Doctor between her legs twice in the same evening. When she’d finally come down, the Doctor pulled back, carefully wiping his chin. “That was,” she said, breath still shaking, “amazin’.”

“Isn’t it always?” he asked smugly, straightening his tie.

She slapped his shoulder playfully, and shifted to straighten her dress into something presentable.

A few short minutes later, the car was idling outside their flat. The Doctor exited, and then held out a hand to help Rose. She waited by the door as he settled things with the driver—gave him a large tip, she suspected. The wind changed directions, and she caught the driver’s voice, “So you asked her then.”

“Yeah,” she saw, more than heard, the Doctor reply. The driver must have congratulated him, though she only heard the Doctor’s reply of, “Thank you,” before he waved the car off and came toward her.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Once in the privacy of their flat, Rose had no problem showing him how eager she was to have him, and have him _now._ He’d opened up to her; while it was true that he had been less guarded since losing a heart, he was still _the Doctor_ , and for the Doctor to be earnest and direct with his feelings to such an extent was a rare thing. When he bared his soul to her like that, it set off something primal in her, and—strangely enough—the feeling it evoked low in her belly was nearly identical to the one she’d experienced the first time she’d ever undressed him (she didn’t count that time he was unconscious). Tonight, he had offered himself to her and she had accepted. Now that same familiar heat was burning through her, and she wanted him to make good on that offer. 

Rose’s lips eagerly claimed his, and the Doctor pulled her to himself enthusiastically. She worked quickly to undo the buttons of his jacket and shirt, before pushing both off of his shoulders and down his arms in one go, pressing herself flush against him as she did. The slippery feel of her dress against his flesh was tantalizing as he wriggled his arms to free himself of his shirtsleeves. Rose bent to press wet kisses to his chest, her tongue teasing at his nipples, and his skin was flushed and consumed by a prickling heat; he could feel his cock straining against his trousers. As Rose straightened her back to reclaim his mouth, she pulled his hips to hers; they both groaned as his erection pressed against her.

“Doctor,” she said, “I want you,” her lips moved against his as she spoke, her hands snaking from his hips to his head, framing his face, “I want you to take me,” she gasped, nipping at his lips. She wasn’t sure if it was his heartfelt words or all the wine she’d had, but she suddenly felt as if she were burning for him; _only_ for him. “Take me to the bedroom and shag me into the mattress.”

“Rose,” he gasped against her lips as they moved awkwardly toward the bedroom, “Want you, need you.” They fumbled at each other’s clothing, nearly falling over each other several times before finally landing on the bed. The Doctor stood and toed off his shoes as he tugged frantically at the fastenings of his trousers. He stooped to pull off his socks, his eyes dark and locked on Rose as she pulls her dress up over her head.

“Seems I left my knickers in the limo,” she sighed, reaching behind herself to unhook her bra.

“Quite right,” he said. He stared for a moment, his eyes roving over the swells of her naked body. She shifted up the bed so that her head was on the pillows; one leg straight and the other bent, falling to the side and revealing her sex to him. His eyes linger on her as she caresses the delicate flesh.

“Doctor?” she purred, her fingertips lightly teasing her folds. His eyes flicked up to hers.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you still all the way over there?” she grinned, her tongue peeking through her teeth. With that, he sprang on her, moving lithely up her form, pausing to lavish his attention on her breasts before moving to her neck, where he nipped and sucked and marked her. “Doctor,” she sighed, reaching between them to stroke his erection. “Now. Now, _please._ Now,” she whimpered. She pulled at his hip with her other hand, and with one hand on his cock, he guided himself to her entrance; eager and needy, he thrust all the way into her in once fast, firm stroke.

“Yes!” she gasped out at the same time as he moaned into the crook of her neck.

“Rose! You feel… _oh!_ ” he moaned and, biting his lip, he began to move.

“Oh, Doctor! I love you,” she spoke, shifting her hips to the rhythm he set, her hand at his waist encouraging him.

“I love _you_ ,” he sighed, kissing her briefly before her lips and teeth and tongue were working at his neck, causing a heat within him to swell and snap; he started thrusting harder into her, taking hold of the headboard for leverage.

Rose gasped and brought a hand up to brace against the headboard as well, pushing against it as she rocked her hips into his, meeting him thrust for thrust. She loved when he was like this, his reservation gone, his control frayed; he was the Oncoming Shag, and Rose’s breath trembled at the thought that she could do this to him. Rose keened beneath him and cried out, “Yes, Doctor! Yes. Yes! More!”

Through a thick haze of human lust, the Doctor worried that he was hurting her; tiny bubbles of shame threatened to rise to the surface, but Rose’s words turned them to stone and they fell away. He was moving into her with vigor, her slick heat and his name on her lips pushing him ever-closer to the edge. “Rose,” he called out, his voice shaking as he looked down at her.

Her name from his mouth was a force unto its own, and she felt herself clench around him; she was close. One hand still on the headboard, she slipped the other between them and rubbed at her clit; frantic little circles that she tried to match to his strokes. Her eyes flickered from his lips (he was biting his lower one) to the column of his throat where his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. The Doctor rolled his hips and she moaned, her eyes falling shut, her fingers working against her slick flesh and suddenly her orgasm was upon her.

The Doctor groaned as her muscles tightened around him, and he came with her; a flood of Gallifreyan endearments on his lips. He collapsed into her waiting arms, his mouth pressed to the side of her neck as she lightly stroked the skin of his back, her touch adding to the chill caused by the evaporating sheen of sweat.

The moments after they’ve made love—while he’s still inside of her, her heart pounding and his head swimming from orgasm—are his favorite. Not only because this was as physically close to Rose as he could possibly be, but because if he was very, very still, he could imagine her heart beating within his chest, restoring the rhythm he’d lost in the metacrisis.

She felt him smile against her skin, and reached up to comb her fingers through his hair. “What?” she whispered.

“Happy New Year.”

“You, too Doctor.”

“Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“Should I call the driver and see about getting your knickers back?”


End file.
